


the chemicals between us

by AndreaLyn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alpha!Finn, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega!Poe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5905252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The First Order uses injections to create obedient omegas, which is what they use on Poe to extract the information about BB-8. Finn's not exactly a model omega and in the process of escaping, he learns that maybe he's been living under the false assumption that he's like everyone else his whole life (and that maybe the word 'alpha' shouldn't be so foreign to him).</p>
            </blockquote>





	the chemicals between us

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks forever to [giidas](http://giidas.tumblr.com/) for the cheer-leading and the beta and basically, for helping this come into existence.

_“Hand me that syringe. Then you can tell Ren that he can come and interrogate the prisoner in a few hours. By then, he’ll practically be slobbering to tell us everything.”_

_“You’re sure he won’t present aggressively?”_

_“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll stay here and wait to make sure he’s plenty receptive and if he’s not, I’ll double the dosage.”_

Poe startles awake to a man dressed in black injecting him with something. He lets out a startled cry and tries to swerve away from the touch, glaring at the soldier, but the metal restraints hold him in place. “What the hell is that?” he spits out, taking in short, sharp breaths as he tries to calm down and not think about the worst case scenarios reverberating in his brain.

“Don’t you worry that pretty little head. It’s just something to make you a little more cooperative. You’re suited to the injection, I think. It’s only a shame Ren probably won’t want to share you.”

Poe isn’t sure what they’ve done to him, but the injection is followed by a sudden physical reaction. Cold sweat breaks out all over his body and a burst of physical illness follows soon after. If not for the restraints, he’d be bent over in severe distress, but as it stands, all he can do is bite back the pained moan, refusing to give any indication that he’s suffering.

The First Order doctor takes his pressure, looks in his eyes, and then _smells him_ , which makes Poe struggle against the binds because there’s some sense of this man not being _allowed_ to do that rattling around in his brain.

“Stop,” the doctor commands sharply.

Poe’s brain screams at him not to, tells him to keep fighting and to spit in the man’s face, but his body refuses to listen. He goes shock still and his every muscle trembles because he does stop, and he doesn’t say another word. Whatever drug they’ve infected him with, it’s taken away some measure of his free will and that only makes him a new shade of furious.

“You’ll never get away with this,” Poe bites out, his body still taut as a violin’s string.

The doctor regards him placidly, sniffing the air around him once more. “Tell Kylo Ren that he’s ready,” he informs a Stormtrooper standing at the door. 

It’s only when the doctor leaves that Poe’s whole body contracts. A shiver runs through him as the epiphany strikes and he knows something is terribly wrong here. Worst, he has no idea what it is or how he can fix it. 

He doesn’t realize how wrong things are until Kylo Ren has managed to extract BB-8’s location from his mind with such little resistance. Poe knows, though, he _knows_ that he could’ve done it, but his every cell had fought him until he’d given the information away. Some awful part of him wants to do whatever he can to please the man looming over him.

“Kriff,” Poe mutters, slumping back into the restraints once Ren’s left him to wallow in his failure. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

* * *

Slip’s gone.

It feels like part of FN-2187 has gone missing, even though he can’t account for why that is. In the flash of a moment, it’s like some part of him has been severed. He doesn’t understand why, but he knows that something’s changed. FN-2187 isn’t the same soldier as he’d been before the battle on Jakku. 

Now that he’s back on the Finalizer, he sees his future lying in front of him. Phasma wants to put him back in line, but FN-2187 can’t let that happen. If he gets sent to reconditioning, they’re going to pump him full of so many drugs that he won't know up from down. He needs to escape and unfortunately, there are a few glaring holes in his plan unless he gets a pilot.

It’s a good thing he knows where they’re keeping one.

FN-2187 waits until the pilot is left under light guard duty, right after shift rotation. The medics passing by talk about how the injections have taken and his new nature should stick with him for at least a few years, then they joke about who’s going to get the first turn. 

It’s the perfect opportunity.

FN-2187 steps into their path, informing them that one of the generals has requested personal use of the prisoner. If the pilot is as willing and ready as the rest of the troopers after their injections, FN-2187 knows exactly how to manipulate this situation because personal visits are a common thing and it won’t seem suspicious at all that one of the alphas on base would love to subjugate a Resistance pilot. The medics exchange a look, but shrug and help FN-2187 in getting the prisoner free of his restraints, bundling him into FN-2187’s arms.

The first thing that strikes him is how _good_ the pilot smells. He tries to ignore that as he steers them somewhere more private, giving FN-2187 to get his helmet off and get the full brunt of that intoxicating scent. 

“Are you Resistance?” the man asks, the words sluggish and slow, but despite the mumbling, FN-2187 hears everything perfectly clear. It’s like there’s a steel cable connecting them, their thoughts and their paths and their goals.

FN-2187 puts him right. He needs a pilot, he’s got a pilot, and then the prisoner grins at him in a way that sets FN-2187 off-kilter. It’s like every part of him lights up with new connections that he didn’t think possible before. _What’s happening to him?_ And so fast on the heels of Slip, it can’t be right. FN-2187 gets them on the TIE fighter, his mind a cloudy haze and he’s finding it so hard to _think_ that he agrees to pretty much everything this man (Poe, his name is _Poe_ ) says. And then Poe offers him a name as if bestowing a gift and something in him clicks.

Something in _Finn_ clicks.

The piece that Slip had left missing feels whole again and he can’t rightly explain it, but then he’s busy trying to tell Poe that there’s _no way_ they’re going back to Jakku. If it weren’t for the direct hit, Finn gets the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Poe would’ve listened to him. There’d been a brief moment where it looked like he’d do anything Finn asked.

That moment is gone as quickly as it’d come, replaced by the shock of impact when they crash.

Finn’s left reeling and unsteady, tracking after the smoking wreck, but it’s too late. Just as he’s found the ship, it sinks into the sand, taking his pilot away, but not leaving him feeling half as empty as he had when Slip had been shot.

He thinks that feeling of losing Slip is a little like what those old myths about mates describe, how you feel empty and half-whole when an alpha loses their omega or vice-versa. It’s impossible, though. Finn’s an omega the same as the rest of his unit and everyone knows an omega can’t mate with another (no matter how much some had tried).

And yet, he feels empty, like somehow he’s lost two mates in the course of a day. 

Claiming the last piece of Poe that's left, the jacket, Finn tries to resolutely ignore the distress coursing through him because he’s got one mission now and that’s to get as far away from the First Order and their chemical suppression as he can. If he gets far enough for long enough, maybe their influence over him will end. 

Until then, he’s got to keep moving because if one of the alphas finds him, Finn doesn’t think he’ll have much of a chance at resisting.

* * *

Rey changes everything.

Finn’s not sure what it is, but there’s a part of him that refuses to let her out of his sight for too long. He abandons his plans of running away to the Outer Rim for her, like he’s taken her in as one of his own. It’s a kind of loyalty that he feels passionately about and the word _pack_ swims in his mind. He thinks he’d probably go to the same lengths if Slip or one of his other close friends had been taken, because Finn’s marked them as _his_.

(Finn has no idea that this isn’t a normal thought for an omega, because how could he? It’s not like the First Order had sat them down and given them a through education about proper social behaviors for omegas)

Chasing after Rey leads him right back into the hands of the Resistance and something clicks again, makes him feel more settled and right than he has since the crash on Jakku. It’s like the itch in his skin has vanished, his mind is soothed, and the tension has bled out of him.

He thinks it might have something to do with the fact that something on this planet smells like coming home.

Finn licks his lips and breathes it in for a second, thinking that maybe it’s his freedom that’s so intoxicating until BB-8 nearly knocks him over and calls his attention to one of the pilots descending out of his rig.

“Poe,” Finn exhales when he recognizes that familiar head from this far away, chanting the name again and again. His body’s moving before he even thinks about taking a single step, because there’s only one goal in his mind.

_Get to Poe, get to Poe right now, touch him, claim him._

Everything is a haze until he has Poe in his arms and then the world feels right again. Finn buries his face in Poe’s neck for a brief moment, dragging his nose along the line of it and inhaling deeply, affronted when it’s missing something (and a little scared when Finn realizes that ‘something’ is the smell of _himself_ that he’s after). 

“…that’s my jacket,” Poe is saying when Finn manages to tune back in. 

Finn’s frantic to get it off because his brain is telling him that if he gets it back on Poe, it can smell like the both of them. Finn’s scent carried over onto Poe. No one on this base will ever doubt who Poe belongs to if he smells like Finn. When Poe insists he keep it, anger sparks in Finn because he doesn’t _want_ to keep it. 

He wants, _needs_ Poe to wear it because it should smell of _them_ , but then he realizes that maybe it goes both ways.

Maybe Poe needs him to wear it for the exact same reason.

Breathing out shakily, Finn resolves to think about this a little harder later. He slides a hand up Poe’s arm, bunching the fabric of his flight suit in his fist. Every inhalation pulls in more of that sweet, intoxicating smell that seems to be bleeding off of Poe. Finn needs to stay near to it because it’s the first time he’s felt calm and right since the crash.

“They took Rey,” he says, frantic with the sudden need to try and get his friend back. “We have to get her back.”

“Don’t worry,” Poe promises, eyes locked on Finn and sparkling with affection and joy. “I know how we can.”

* * *

He’d thought, however stupidly, that getting Rey back would somehow soothe the itch in his mind. It doesn’t. Even though he knows she’s safe and sound (and on her way to Luke), something still feels unresolved.

It sort of feels like his body wants him to do something.

He’s been awake for a few days, helped along by the bacta the medics have been giving him to heal his back, but they comment very quietly (when they think Finn can’t hear) about how the wound is strange, almost as if Kylo Ren had somehow flinched at the last moment. Finn wants to protest that a flaming wound in his back still hurts like a mother, even if they think Kylo Ren has somehow gone easy on him.

Finn’s whole body is back to being itchy and feeling like he’s not put together right in his own skin. It’s like when he’d been separated from Poe in the crash on Jakku, but a thousand times worse. His head is pounding and his body feels sluggish. Finn’s healing quicker than expected (even if he is still confined to medical) and they’re busy planning another campaign against the First Order to strike while they’re still weakened, yet all he can think about is the ache in him.

Worse, there’s the part he doesn’t want to think about, which is that his cock seems permanently half-aroused in a way that usually only happened back on the Finalizer when a 'trooper from his unit had gone into heat.

Something’s going on and it’s not isolated to Finn.

Medical is a chaotic mess today, none of the doctors and nurses staying long enough for anything; someone had been brought in late last night (from the rumors), screaming and begging to be touched and fixed.  
“What’s happening?” Finn asks the first nurse he manages to stop, the distress heavy in his words. 

His wound aches and thrums with pain as if responding to the mess in medical. He can hear someone hoarsely shouting in the distance, probably whoever came in last night. The sound is making Finn’s blood boil, every nerve standing on edge, but stranger than that is the way it seems to call to him and pull him closer. He’s already drifting towards the source of the pained sound as the nurse hovers behind him to read from the patient’s chart.

“It’s Commander Dameron,” she says. “He was brought complaining of symptoms. Fever, sweats, aching stomach.” The nurse blushes a delicate pink as she reads on. “Some priapism. He kept asking the droids and doctors to touch him and help him.” 

_They can’t have him_ , thinks Finn as he fights back the need to let out a possessive growl. _He’s mine. Only I get to touch him._

Finn’s starting to get a good idea about what’s happening to Poe, though he’s still confused about why Finn’s reacting the way he is to it.

He’s never experienced it in his life, but he’s seen the others go through it. Years ago, someone within the Order had developed a kind of chemical that made its soldiers obedient and faithful. They coined them omegas, bringing on an unnatural heat-state that reoccurred just often enough to reinforce dependency and loyalty. Because their biology had been forced to that state, there had never been any way of predicting when a heat would happen. The minute the heat became unbearable, the Stormtrooper had been delivered dutifully to one of the officers, like Hux or Phasma, and a bond of obedience was formed. Everyone had always hoped for one of the kinder officers, the ones who didn’t dismiss you after they were done, but those kinder alphas wielded a different kind of treachery. They’d establish a line of devotion that only heightened your loyalty to the First Order.

Finn feels sick to his stomach to hear that Poe’s going through that pain, knowing there isn’t anyone on this base who’s been subjected to the alpha strain and can help Poe. Worse, he can’t help but think that the only people who can help Poe are the Generals and the Lieutenants and Captains he’s run away from.

Somewhere, in the back of Finn’s mind, the very thought of anyone else touching Poe with their filthy hands that _don’t belong_ makes him sharper and angrier, and he doesn’t realize by how much until he hears the snapping of a clipboard in his hands.

“Are you okay?” the nurse asks.

“I don’t know,” Finn admits, his eyes wild as he stares down the hallway, where Poe is screaming for his life. “What are they doing to him?”

“He’s been locked away for his own good. The General thinks if we wait it out long enough, it will pass.”

She’s wrong. She’s _so wrong_ , but she can’t possibly know that. 

He resolves to tell her, but he can’t seem to get the words out. Worse than that, the closer he gets to the room, the more he can smell of the scent Poe’s emitting. His nose fills with it and he practically chokes. He’s accustomed to the smell of omegas going into heat because you couldn’t be a Stormtrooper and avoid it, but it’s never smelled like this to him before. And, in fact, why the hell has he never experienced heat himself?

“Tell the General that I know what Poe needs,” Finn says. “And make sure no one comes down to interrupt us.”

He’s starting to get an idea about what’s going on. The sudden increase in Finn’s strength and his newfound healing capacity, faster than it should be. He thinks of how Poe seems so eager to please around him, with his winning smiles and easy touches, not to mention the possessions he keeps dropping on Finn, all of them intent on keeping Finn in Poe’s orbit. He thinks of Poe’s quickness to help Finn’s cause and how he’d put him ahead of the Resistance and it all starts to click even though it still doesn’t feel like it can actually make sense.

It shouldn’t be possible. Finn’s an omega, the same as all the other Stormtroopers.

What he hasn’t taken into account is that maybe being an omega isn’t as natural of a thing as they’ve worked so hard to convince him and maybe they’ve missed something in Finn’s biology. They hadn’t seen his break in loyalty coming, so maybe they’ve just never looked at him long and hard enough. Maybe Finn’s not actually an omega after all.

Finn stops outside of Poe’s door, noticing that the chaos has died down. He doesn’t think about how with every step Finn has taken to get closer, Poe seems to have settled more and more.

He only knows the myths about alphas. The commanding officers had never been quick to share details and his fellow Stormtroopers never said anything more than how satisfied they were. Knowing facts about an alpha’s habits and predilections would’ve been strategic information that could be wielded against their superiors and the knowledge had been aggressively guarded.

“Poe?” Finn lays his palm on the door, splaying his fingers and trying to pretend he can somehow feel Poe through the barrier.

He gets a mild grunt in reply.

“When you were on the Finalizer, how many injections did they give you?” It’s as hard to get these words out as anything Finn’s had to do in his life. He needs to know the answer, though, because he’s just starting to understand the world he’s escaped. 

“I think one? Maybe two. They said it’d make me cooperative.”

He remembers how they injections never made Finn complacent, how they’d always done the opposite. He’d always been aggressive after, excelling in his classes and at taking a leader’s stance within his group. He’d kept his aggression quiet, trying not to make himself stand out, but he’d always worried that somehow he was different from the rest. Now, he’s beginning to understand that maybe the drug they’d been injecting him with is not something so predictable. 

They’d labeled their soldiers ‘omega’, but the upper ranks had proudly called themselves ‘alpha’ and Finn is starting to think maybe they didn’t know that the chemical they were injecting into their bodies could have a mind of their own and turn the ‘troopers into alphas, too. Or maybe they did know that and Finn is just better at keeping quiet than others – others who may have been picked out of the ranks and disposed of.

“Poe,” Finn says quietly. “I think I might know what’s happening.”

He can’t go in just yet. He’s seen what happens when an omega is in heat. No matter how much the alpha commander tries to stay in control, they inevitably lose themselves too and are only protected by the fact that the omega would never think of betraying an alpha taking care of them. Of all the myths that have filtered through the ranks, there’s a sure-fire one that Finn thinks he can use to find out whether his suspicions are true. 

Alphas are meant to knot their omegas. For all that the commanders would’ve loved to keep that one quiet, it’s hard to keep a satisfied Trooper from spilling the beans when all’s said and done. If Finn is really an alpha, then he’d have a knot like the rest of them, right?

His vision goes cloudy with a haze of lust as he thinks about using his knotted cock to drive into Poe’s slick hole and fill him up until he screams Finn’s name. “Okay,” he rambles to himself. “Okay, calm down, deep breaths, calm down.”

“I know you’re talking to yourself, but it’s kind of helping,” Poe mumbles from behind the door. “Why aren’t you in here?”

“Not yet,” Finn snaps, because he needs to be _sure_.

Checking left, then right, Finn feels like an idiot as he loosens his trousers and gets a hand down there, stroking himself to try and find some mythical physical aspect of himself that he could’ve been stubbornly ignoring this whole time. Or maybe it’s taken Poe in heat to do this to him.

One of the other myths he’d heard so much about had been the idea of _mates_. There are a few juicy stories about an alpha accidentally taking an omega in the ranks and finding they had a connection, but neither side had ever shown their faces again. Mates are forever because they fit together.

Mates are the ideal connection, but cause too much of an emotional bond for the First Order to like.

Could it be possible? Could all those injections have taken a wrong turn somewhere along the line? Or has Finn never been the omega that he thought he was and that’s part of why he’d been able to defect? He leans against the wall with Poe on the other side, hearing the scrabbling sound of Poe getting as close to the door as possible.

“Finn, please come in here,” Poe beckons, his voice a fluid and seductive thing.

Finn closes his eyes and wraps his hand around his cock, taking his time as he slides the rough pad of his thumb down the length, choking as he gets to the swell in his cock that’s never been there before. He can smell something new in the air, too, a kick of a pheromone that he realizes, belatedly, is _him_.

“I will make you feel so good that you’ll weep,” Poe promises, with a steady determination only betrayed by the tremble in his words. Finn knows what that is. It’s a desperate and needy thread of lust infiltrating Poe’s brain and body. “C’mon, Finn, babe,” he coaxes. “Don’t you wanna find out how good I feel?”

“Fuck!” Finn spits out, trying to close his eyes and remember if any of the other omegas he’s known had been so crafty and determined before, but his brain doesn’t answer.

The only response he manages to elicit is from his body, clamoring at him to take, _take_ , and then claim.

“We can’t go back from this,” Finn manages, using up all his determination just to get those words out. “Poe, you’ll be mine…” That’s about all he’s got in him. “Get back from the door,” he barks.

Finn lets out a strangled moan knowing that when he’s done here, Poe will belong to him. He wrenches the door open and stumbles backwards when he’s assaulted by the thick smell of sweet citrus and honey in the air, a heavy incense-like musk clogging his nose and blocking out the rest of his thoughts.

He takes in the sight of Poe lying sprawled on discarded blankets, only left in a loose pair of sweats. His hair is disheveled and he’s been sweating (and crying, by the looks of the tear tracks on his cheeks), but right now, he’s the most beautiful thing Finn’s ever seen in his life.

“Please,” Poe says, and that’s when Finn loses control of conscious thought. Everything is sensation.

Finn slides his hand down into Poe’s pants, between his legs and past his cock, coming away with a wetness that seems so foreign and normal to him at the same time. He takes his wet hand and strokes his own cock with it, thumb pressing up against the swell of his knot.

“Finn,” Poe gets out, gaze stuck on that strange new swell. “Please,” he snaps, teeth gritted. “I can’t think, Finn, I can barely breathe,” his voice is strained with impatience, “touch me already, get in me!” he manages, the words bit out like rapid-fire. 

Finn grabs Poe by the hips and moves him forcibly up onto the bed, ripping off what’s left of Poe’s clothes before stripping frantically, trying to work on the limited knowledge he has of reproduction from old lessons he’d never paid enough attention to.

Finn’s kisses turn feral with every passing second when he’s this close to Poe’s skin. Teeth marks start making appearance next to the bruises Finn sucks into his skin, and Finn wishes he was in his right mind to really slow down and appreciate this, but he isn't. All he knows is that he feels like he’s going to burn up and die if he doesn’t get inside Poe right this second.

Some part of him struggles to remember that he should ask permission, but when he looks down to ask, all he gets is a smoldering look from Poe and a steady litany of pleading.

“Y-yeah?” he manages, as close as he’ll come to permission.

“Yes,” Poe growls, yanking at Finn’s hand and trying to pull him forcibly down. He nearly trips, only grabbing Poe’s shoulder for leverage at the last second. With his permission given ( _earned_ ), Finn starts the frantic task of pushing into Poe, every broken cry from Poe’s lips an encouragement. “Oh gods,” Poe gasps, hips hitching up. “Deeper, Finn.”

_He can go deeper?_

Kriff, he can go deeper. Finn feels himself push further into Poe, past the point of possibility it seems, and when he rolls his hips forward, he thinks that he might be so deep in Poe that the man is practically gagging on him.

Poe lets out a broken sob of wild ecstasy and his exhalations are shaky breaths tinged with laughter, though the satisfaction only seems to last for a second before he’s begging for more under his breath. Finn bows his head forward, forehead pressed to Poe’s chest as he pushes in that deep again and just _holds_ there in that place.

_Mine, mine, mine_ , his brain says and his body responds in turn when that knot he’s found just now starts to swell up larger than before. 

Poe gets a crazed look in his eye that melts towards something blissful, like Finn’s knot in him is somehow a kind of nirvana that he’s been searching his whole life for. He scrambles to get a hold of Finn, but only manages to drag his nails down Finn’s chest, giving him marks of his own. One knee still over Finn’s shoulder, Poe sits up, his muscles working to bring them closer enough that Finn thinks they’re one person instead of two.

“You feel so right,” Poe rambles. “I’ve never felt so full in my life, never felt so _good_. Finn, are you…” He stares down in wonder, something matched by Finn because he seems to be getting even bigger, sparked on by Poe’s words and the heat of his body surrounding him. 

It’s a good thing they’re already in medical, because Finn doesn’t think either of them are going to be doing much walking anytime soon.

Finn has to readjust his hold on Poe because of the way they’re both sweating; they’re locked in together in a way that Finn knows can’t be permanent, but feels like that’s all he could want. Poe’s scent and feel and taste and touch make Finn think he’ll never find something half as beautiful and perfect again. Finally, it feels like his knot has swelled as much as it’s going to, an ache that’s both pleasurable and bordering on painful for how it throbs within Poe, leaving Finn to wonder whose pulse he’s even hearing right now.

“C’mon,” Finn mutters. “Come on, come on,” he keeps going, not sure who he’s even talking to anymore. He lets out a ragged cry when he comes, still so deep in Poe, and everything sort of settles from the bright fiery haze into something calmer, but no less riddled with need.

Finn is still knotted inside Poe and Poe hasn’t come yet. 

He needs to take care of his omega. That’s the only thing his body is telling him. No matter what he does, he needs to make sure that Poe ends up feeling as sated and perfect as Finn. 

“This is already so much better,” Poe promises, his eyes closed as Finn’s knot fills him up. “Finn, gods, Finn,” he says, and when he comes all over Finn’s chest, a look of ecstasy briefly filters over Poe’s face before settling into a calm sort of joy that Finn suspects makes Poe amenable to doing anything that Finn suggests right now.

It’s far too easy to see how the First Order had used this on their soldiers to strengthen the loyalty in their ranks.

Finn reaches down between them and rubs his thumb in circles between Poe’s thighs, drawing it away so he can rub it over Poe’s lips, watching the way Poe laps up Finn’s come eagerly. The sight of it compels Finn to learn down and kiss Poe so that he can taste _himself_.

He knows that he’s doing this so Poe will smell of him, _only him_ , but he also wants to take care of Poe and make sure he feels as good as Poe’s making him feel. It feels like no time at all passes between rounds, before Finn’s pulled out of Poe only to turn him and get him so that Poe’s face is buried in the sheets of the bed and Finn buried within him – Finn’s splayed hand on Poe’s back a contrast of dark shadows on lighter skin amidst the rivulets of sweat. This time, Finn knows what to expect and yet, the feel of his knot swelling inside Poe again from this new angle is like discovering it all over again for the first time. 

It fixes them together, connected as they have been since the first moment they met.

“Finn,” Poe breathes, “Finn,” he says again, swearing his claim to him. The unspoken words resonate in Finn’s mind. _Poe’s mine_ , he knows, because no one else would dare to touch him now, not after Finn’s claimed him like this. 

The First Order can’t have them. The First Order can’t touch Poe again. Finn’s going to make sure of that.

That clear moment fades away into another blur of movement and noise, their bodies locked together as they fumble through as many positions as they can. Finn’s got a special place in his heart for the ones that let Poe get his mouth on Finn, so Poe can make good on his promise of making Finn so happy he could weep.

Eventually, the crazed fervor dies down and Finn gets his bearings back. One quick look at a chronometer and Finn realizes that what’s felt like a blissful eternity has only been two hours. They’ve finally drifted apart (even if it is only a few feet), but something in his brain is telling him that it’s too far and he needs to check on Poe.

He glances to the sprawled lump on the bed, Poe’s bare ass and back covered in bruises Finn’s pretty sure he’d put there. “Poe?”

“Finn,” Poe says, his voice so filled with honest, exuberant joy that it makes Finn's heart ache to hear it. “You’re too far.”

They’re only a few feet apart on the bed, but Finn knows what Poe means. He crawls on all fours to get closer, bundling Poe up like a ragdoll into his arms, burrowing his face into his hair.

“We should let the medics in,” Poe mumbles, sliding his palm up and down Finn’s thigh. “Can we?” Finn wonders if Poe would ever ask for this kind of permission if it weren’t for the chemicals in his bloodstream, but his deferring to Finn brings on a headiness that, he can’t deny, feels _amazing_.

Finn tightens his hold on Poe. “Soon,” he promises.

It takes another hour before Finn is willing to share the sight of Poe with anyone else. He gets them covered in blankets and sheets, swathed around their bodies to protect their decency, but he only consents to the nurses and doctors in the room when he’s got Poe curled up in his lap comfortably, Finn’s nose buried in Poe’s sweaty, disheveled hair. There isn’t an inch of Poe that doesn’t smell like Finn after the multiple rounds (Finn had lost count and consciousness around six) and Finn stubbornly wants it to stay that way.

One of the medics does a quick scan, a confused look on her face. “Whatever you did, his heart rate has come down to normal and blood pressure has done the same.” She’s blushing, being deliberately obtuse, because every single of the medical team _knows_ what they’ve been doing.

Honestly, Finn won’t be surprised if in a few hours, the whole base knows what’s happened, seeing as their current position leaves little to the imagination. 

Finn nuzzles at Poe’s neck, eyes closed as relief washes over him, knowing that Poe is healthy and out of immediate danger. 

“Tell the General I’ll come by and explain later,” Poe mumbles from where his mouth is pressed to Finn’s bicep. “Not that I even know how to _begin_ explaining it.”

Finn’s pretty sure this means they’re both going to have to end up being test subjects, but it will give the Resistance an insight into the chemicals The Order uses to subdue its Stormtroopers. Maybe if they can come up with some kind of immunization or cure, they could break some of the loyalties of the First Order away.

They could probably also take away the burden of their new biology from Finn and Poe, and he tightens his hold on Poe at the dismal thought of that. Maybe it won’t be so easy to use this against the First Order, but at least it’s something to try.

The medics leave them alone after a lecture about chafing and Finn’s too tired and worn to even pretend to be embarrassed.

So instead of thinking about it, he distracts himself with stroking his fingers over Poe’s back.

“Finn, what’s going on?” Poe asks. “What was all that about?”

“On the base, they used to give us injections. They manipulated our bodies so we would become these things called omegas. Subservient and eager to please,” he says, realizing belatedly that maybe he shouldn’t make it sound so bad in front of Poe. “The commanding officers were alphas, the doctors and captains and generals, too. I think it’s a big part of why they’ve been able to keep people in line.”

“So that’s why Ren could get those things out of my head so easily even when I was using all my training to resist?” Poe mumbles, glancing up at Finn with half-lidded eyes. “What about you? Can omegas do this together?”

“No,” Finn says, sliding his thumb into the dip of Poe’s spine. “I think I’ve been an alpha all along. I don’t think they knew the drug could do that. Or they did know and they just disposed of the accidental alphas and they just never noticed me. I think, before you, I had someone who I thought of as mine. I think that you’re something more, though”

“More?”

“They didn’t like to talk about it, but sometimes when an alpha and omega fit right, they could become mated,” Finn explains, not sure that he’s explaining it right, but he’s probably the closest thing they have to an expert on the base. “From what I remember, there’s this spot, here,” he says, stroking Poe’s shoulder, “and when you put a mark there, it’s like a ‘keep away’ sign to other alphas. I heard stories about alphas claiming their favorites.”

And there’s always been that myth that Kylo Ren bore General Hux’s mark, but it had always seemed too ridiculous for Finn to believe.

Poe shifts out of Finn’s hold to sprawl on the bed, propping his chin up with a hand. “So this thing, this heat thing, this could happen to me again?” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees, his cock stirring at the thought of getting to do this again.

“And it could be with anyone. It doesn’t have to be with you?”

Finn cracks his knuckles from the tension of holding them together, his jaw aching from being held so tight. “You _could_ sleep with someone else,” he agrees in a low, dangerous way that says that if Poe decided to do that, someone might end up dead.

“Then it should be us,” Poe says logically. “Let’s do it. Let’s bond or mate or do more of this.” He tips his head to the side to elongate the muscles of his neck, showing off a scar-pocked shoulder. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not going to last forever,” Finn warns, even though that smooth patch of skin that Poe’s baring to him is tempting beyond the telling of it. “The injections were usually given to us yearly, but I overheard someone on the Finalizer saying this could wear off in a few years.”

“And how many heats did your friends go through every year? If we don’t mate now, how many times are we gonna have to do this with you getting all weird and possessive because you don’t have a claim on me?”

“Usually? Three or four times a year,” Finn admits.

“You know what this means, right?”

Finn shakes his head, not sure where Poe’s going with this. 

“If it’s going to wear off for me, that means it’ll wear off for you as well,” Poe says, eyes bright and hopeful. “But until then, I really don’t want to think about having to find someone to pin me down and claim me every time I go into a heat, if that’s what's happening right now.”

Finn knows Poe’s playing dirty. He _knows_ he’s doing this on purpose to get Finn riled up, but it does the trick. He crawls forward on the bed and grabs Poe’s wrists, pinning them above his head and squeezing until Poe lets out a choked cry of pleasure, hips rolling up towards Finn.

Poe stares down the length of his body and grins when he sees his cock stirring again with renewed interest.

“I’ve never been able to go this many times in a row before,” Poe admits. “No wonder the First Order has so many sympathizers.”

“Shut up,” Finn insists, starting a campaign to kiss every square inch of Poe’s body before he gets lost in that cloudy haze of lust again.

Poe bucks up against Finn’s hand and meets him halfway off the bed, kissing Finn aggressively, chasing after more. “Make me,” he dares Finn, eyes wild and eager.

They’ll get back to the claiming conversation later. Finn’s got more important work to do right now. He feels calmer now that Poe’s acknowledged they work together. Holding him down, Finn works to take Poe apart piece by piece until Poe is squirming and struggling and the only thing that calms him down is when Finn finally fills him up with his knot, the alien bit of his anatomy he’s only just getting accustomed to.

Poe holds his gaze the whole time and Finn’s brain feels like it’s been sparked with a fire he won’t be able to put out for a long time.

* * *

“Well?” Poe asks, when five months have passed and neither of them has experienced a rut or a heat. “No aggression? No possessiveness? No knot?”

Finn shakes his head. They’ve both been waiting a couple of months for Poe to slip into a heat or for Finn’s alpha symptoms to act up, but nothing happened. It’s been over three years and while an antidote to the First Order’s chemicals has been found, both men had waved off the idea of taking it. Finn rubs at the spot on Poe’s neck where his bonding claim had taken, noticing that it’s beginning to fade away. He knows that he should be happy that their bodies belong to them again, but he feels an ache of grief for what he’s about to lose, seeing as the reason they’d denied the antidote had been so they could foster a bond with each other.

“I guess that means you’re free to move on,” Finn gets out, his words leaden and heavy.

Poe cups Finn’s cheeks with his hands. “After three years, do you really think that I’m the kind of the guy who’s gonna give you a slap on the ass, a thank you for the great sex and move on?” The dubious glare he’s leveling on Finn is pretty impressive, but so is the kiss that speaks of promise that Poe gives him right after. “Don’t be an idiot. As far as I’m concerned, that chemical tweaking our biology gave us an opportunity. What we did with it is all us.”

“Yeah?” Finn replies with a grin.

“Yeah,” Poe agrees warmly. “I’m not intending on relinquishing my claim. Besides,” he goes on, a devilish look in his eye, “I’m _really_ looking forward to fucking you into the mattress without feeling guilty that I’m disappointing my alpha with my shows of aggression.”

Finn lets out a soft whine of need, finds that he really does want to do that, too, and that it’s not the First Order’s chemical warfare that makes him weak for the man in front of him.

Sometimes, Poe Dameron doesn’t need any help.

**Author's Note:**

> There is absolutely a time-stamp coming about Kylo and Hux in this 'verse based on that little rumour, when I do get around to writing it.
> 
> As ever, [occasionally I exist on tumblr](http://andrea-lyn.tumblr.com/).


End file.
